


Permission

by Deputychairman



Series: Straight but even [1]
Category: Canadian Actor RPF
Genre: Handcuffs, I obviously felt the prompt was some kind of challenge, I'm sorry I don't know what happened, Multi, Threesome, and tell me you don't see it, but watch the end of Spy vs Spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deputychairman/pseuds/Deputychairman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he would have said yes, if Paul had asked. But Paul was married, so he didn’t ask. It was fine. Some things weren’t meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt) in the [DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DS_C6D_Prompt_Meme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Someone says to Paul Gross: "Do you know that you act with your tongue?" (Bonus points if it's Martha Burns, but Callum Keith Rennie or David Marciano would be fine too. Or all three!)
> 
> Set during filming of due South episode Spy vs Spy. Thanks to Seascribe for cheerleading this improbable scenario and spotting I had too much growling. Because there's the right amount of growling, and then there's too much, and nobody wants that.

 

 

Callum didn’t think he would like Martha.

He didn’t think it was a good idea, having her on the show. He didn’t say anything, though.

It was no secret that Paul was married, but he didn’t really think about it most of the time. Married was his parents, those friends he used to hang out with until there was a wedding and a baby, and then you never saw them again. Paul didn’t seem much like that. Paul was – a force of nature. Enthusiastic, foul-mouthed and charming both at the same time, grinning like a kid and making Callum ruin takes with just a quirk of his eyebrows. Well, fuck him, it was his show: if he wanted to ruin takes, he could. Callum just couldn’t imagine him with kids of his own, was all.

It wasn’t like he was jealous. If he’d wanted to be married, he could have gotten married.  Had kids too, if he’d wanted. It just seemed like something older people did, and Paul wasn’t old. Paul was his age. Paul was someone he hung out with.

Once his wife turned up though, he’d stop trying to make Callum laugh, stop blowing kisses at him when he messed up, and hang around her in between takes instead of flinging himself (because he did fling himself: like he was playing chicken with the chairs, just daring them to break) down next to Callum and smoking all his cigarettes. Callum was a grownup, he knew how things worked. Maybe he would have said yes, if Paul had asked. But Paul was married, so he didn’t ask. It was fine. Some things weren’t meant to be.

 

*

 

Martha turned out to be not how he expected.

She made fun of Paul, for a start.

“Do you know you act with your _tongue_?” she asked him, incredulous. “Did you always do that?”

Paul cleared his throat and pulled a face.

“Oh wait – you mean you and -” she stopped abruptly, looking over at Callum, like it was something to do with him.

 “No, not _me and_ \- ” he said. “Me and – nobody, ok? I told you.”

Then he looked at Callum too, like he’d been caught out and wanted Callum to back him up.

 

*

 

She was also really pretty.

Not that he thought Paul’s wife wouldn’t be pretty, but he thought she’d be a different _kind_ of pretty – unmistakable, head-turning, flashy, pretty. Like a female Paul. He was expecting her to be taller, too. Paul wasn’t taller than him, but he seemed to take up more space somehow. So he’d expected Martha to be the same way. Some athletic, outdoorsy Amazon, with glossy hair and white teeth, who everyone turned to look at.

But she wasn’t. She was small, and intelligent-looking, with big eyes and delicate features. She probably got cast when they wanted somebody ‘elfin’ or ‘gamine’, not the red-hot love interest. You wouldn’t even know she was an actress, if you met her on the street – she could have been anything. A teacher, a writer, a doctor. Something smart. He could tell she’d be stunning all made up; dressed down, you had to look a bit longer, but it was still there.

 

*

 

She was really friendly too. Came up to him on the first day without waiting for Paul to introduce them.

“It’s great to finally meet you! Paul talks about you _all_ the time.”

Paul looked up at the sound of his own name – of _course_ he did – came over to join them.

“Yeah, same,” Callum said to be polite. But it wasn’t quite true. Or maybe it was, but he just preferred not to listen.

Paul slid his arm round her waist and grinned at them both, like having the two of them on set together was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

 

*

 

Callum had a couple scenes with Martha. The last one, he had to arrest her and cuff her, with Paul right there next to him.

First episode they’d filmed, Paul had to cuff him. He’d kept fumbling it, doing it too slow, looking at Callum’s face rather than what he was doing. When they finally got it, he couldn’t find the key to take the cuffs off again. Because Paul was going out of his way to make Callum feel like the co-star not the sidekick, part of the show, every single day so far, Callum kinda liked it that Paul had set him up. Until he realised Paul really couldn’t find the key. His costume had a load of pockets, and he was searching through all of them, laughing when turned to face the crew, but his smile was just a little bit forced when he thought no-one was looking.

For all that it was Callum in the handcuffs, he was the one laughing when Paul finally found the key. He fumbled uncuffing Callum too, didn’t quite meet his eye as he apologised. He played it like he’d done it on purpose for the rest of the crew, but Callum had seen the blush under his makeup.  
  
He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Or rather, it was better not to try and work it out. They worked together – it felt like they were going to be friends. Friends was _good_. Friends don’t think about friends like that.

 

*

 

Friends don’t put each other’s wives in handcuffs either.

Sure, there was a TV film crew there – it wasn’t for real. But still. It felt weird. He remembered Paul fumbling the cuffs on him, and sympathised now. You couldn’t help where your mind went, sometimes.

Martha’s hands were behind her back so no one would see if he fumbled, but he didn’t. The three of them stood there on the quayside, close together to frame the shot, Callum holding Martha’s delicate wrist with one hand, pushing up his sunglasses with the other. She smelled nice, this close together.

Paul kept screwing up. They had to talk over each other, and he kept looking back at Callum like he couldn’t help it, when he was meant to look in front. But Callum was a fucking pro, he wasn’t gonna laugh. He said his lines, he held Martha’s arm, willed Paul to get it right.

Martha gave him a look he couldn’t read, then said to Paul:

“You’re acting with your tongue again.”

“Yeah well, what did you expect?”

He licked his lip and pulled at his ear as if he was still in character, but the heat in his gaze as he looked at Martha didn’t seem so much like Fraser. Ok, ok, I get it, Callum thought. You’re spoken for, I knew that. I was never gonna _do_ anything. No need to rub it in.

When Paul finally got his lines right, Martha leaned up on tiptoes to kiss him. Maybe all that acting with tongue had given her good ideas. The three of them were standing so close that she didn’t even have to step away from Callum to do it, and he didn’t have time to take a step back. Maybe married people in general didn’t have a lot of sex – that was the joke, right? – but Paul and Martha were apparently on some kind of mission to bust that myth because there were _sparks_ flying. Callum wasn’t a masochist, he didn’t need to be standing here, waiting to get burned.

And then Paul, the fucker, looked up and grinned at Callum over her head.

Wardrobe were coming forward to snatch Paul’s jacket – clearly Callum wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that this was about to go behind closed doors and didn’t want the costume wrinkled – as Callum undid Martha’s cuffs. She slipped out of his grip with the key still in the lock and the cuffs  dangling from one wrist, tugged Paul’s head down to whisper in his ear.

Paul was still looking at him. Paul shouldn’t be looking at him. He definitely shouldn’t lick his lip like that, again, with that hungry look, as he nodded slowly at whatever she was saying. That wasn’t fucking fair. That wasn’t buddies.

“Ok, I need a break,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Yeah, right, whatever you want to call it. No one’s knocking on your door for the next half hour, we get it. But then Paul added,

 “And I need to go over the next scene with you, Cal. Come on back to the trailer with us.”

What, all the tongue action in front of the crew wasn’t enough? Paul thought he needed a private show before he got the message?

“Yeah, gimme half an hour, right?” Callum hedged. “I just need to…”

Any normal person would have let it go there, but not Paul.

“What do you need to do, Cal?”

Pull myself together? Calm down? Jerk off thinking about you with your _wife_? He didn’t have an answer.

“Oh, come on, we only need you for a minute…” Martha chimed in, smiling enticingly. She had a really pretty smile, too.

It would make it into a big deal if he refused: this wasn’t a big deal, everything was fine. He would just call someone tonight, someone who liked him, someone who wasn’t married, someone he didn’t have to work with every day. There were plenty of people like that. It would be fine.

“Uh, ok, well, if I’m not in the way…”

Paul carried on grinning and shook his head.

 

*

 

Martha lead the way into Paul’s trailer, her arm still round his waist. Well, fine: she was his wife, course she could come in the trailer like it was hers. Callum hesitated in the doorway.

“Look, if you need to get changed, I can come back -” but Paul was already stripping off his shirt like he didn’t care who saw him. Didn’t mean Callum was going to watch him though. He wasn’t. He wasn’t gonna rise to this – whatever it was.

“No, no – come in, Callum,” Martha pulled him gently in, closing the door behind him.

She slid her arm round his waist and he froze. He _had_ to be reading this wrong – the way Paul seemed to be breathing harder as he watched them, mouth soft and open and his eyes hot.

Martha pulled him further in, towards Paul.

“You have thought about it, right? Because I’d really like it if – we’d both really like it – if _you_ want to…” she trailed off. “Paul definitely wants to.”

“Uh – what? I -” He knew what it _sounded_ like, but _sounded like_ wasn’t enough. Misinterpret a thing like _this_ , Paul and his _wife_ , and he’d never live it down.

She put her head on one side – just like Paul, actually, which was weird.

“Whatever you want, Callum. Only what you want.”

Was this a test? To catch him out for wanting what was hers? Well he wasn’t gonna feel bad for wanting: it was what you did about it that counted, wasn’t it? And Martha was pulling him still closer to Paul, like she was telling him he _could_ do something about it.

Right now, with Paul shirtless and just standing there, watching, the wanting was a lot more urgent than usual. Usually Paul would crack a dumb joke to break the tension, and they could carry on like nothing happened. Right now he wasn’t saying anything.

“I dunno, guys,” Callum began, tripping over his words. “This is – you two are – look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea, I’m…”

But Martha pulled him another step closer to Paul – and she was _small_ , she couldn’t really pull him if he didn’t want to go, he realised distantly – and Paul reached out to slide one warm hand onto his hip, thumb slipping inside Callum’s shirt like it belonged there.

Then he didn’t move. Like this was Martha’s show – Paul was touching him but gazing at _her_ , as if she was going to tell him what to do next.

Oh _fuck_ , that was a turn-on. Paul gone quiet and hot eyed, waiting to be told what to do? Was this what he was always like in bed? Callum never would have guessed, not in a million years, and it was even hotter for being unexpected.

“Why don’t you kiss him?” Martha asked. “You don’t have to do anything else. Do you want to kiss him?”

Which one of them was she even talking to? Maybe both at once, because Paul nodded at the same time as he did.

“Well, go on then,” she said, pushing him right into Paul. There was a second when he might still have panicked – gone running from the _terrible idea_ this clearly was –  if Paul hadn’t grinned his shit-eating grin as he pulled Callum closer. That was what convinced him it was really ok, for a given value of ok that meant certain career death, but hey.

 

It was a real zero to 60 kiss too: Paul was plastered against him all solid muscle and heat, kissing like he’d just been waiting for permission. And now he had it all right: Martha was right there at Callum’s side, her hand inside his shirt too, pressing him forwards like she was directing him how to do it, how hard Paul liked it.

That was exactly what she was doing, he realised when she pushed him harder so that he pushed Paul, and they took a step that had Paul up against the wall as they made out hot and heavy.

“Don’t stop,” she said, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

Paul did what he was told, leaned back in and kissed him again.

“What do you want?” she asked, and again Callum didn’t know which of them she was asking. He didn’t know how to answer, either – he couldn’t just come out and say it, it wasn’t that _easy_ -

“You want to suck him?” she asked, like she could read his mind. Because of _course_ he wanted to suck Paul, he’d wanted to for weeks now -

But Paul, _Paul_ broke the kiss to say “Hell, yeah,” like Martha had been asking _him_ , and the idea of that sent a pulse of pure want through him. How anyone could make wanting to suck cock sound like a challenge Callum had no idea, but Paul could and did. His hands were hard on Callum’s hips, just waiting for him to give the word.

“He’s very good with his mouth,” Martha promised. Threatened. Whatever, Callum could believe it. “Would you like that?”

Of _course_ he would like that, with Paul holding on to him, pressing their erections together, his mouth soft and slick and still oh-so cocky. How much self-restraint was one person supposed to have? Half of Canada wanted what Martha was offering him, and he didn’t even have to feel bad for doing it with a married man. Not when his wife was right there, her body warm against his, looking like him and Paul together was her own personal fantasy come true.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I would.”

Paul’s you-don’t-know-what-you-just-let-yourself-in-for grin broke out, and he reached for Callum’s belt. But before he could do it Martha was pulling his hands away, turning them so Callum could lean against the wall, producing something that clinked – oh _fuck_ it was the handcuffs, the handcuffs from the shoot. She’d never given them back.

Paul’s eyes went dark as he let her cuff his hands behind his back and push him to his knees with just a hand on his shoulder.

His grin got even wider as he looked up at Callum. Like he knew how hot he was on his knees, and how turned on Callum was, and how much hotter he was gonna look with that smart mouth stretched around Callum’s cock.

 

Martha was in charge, Callum got that now, so it made sense to let her open his pants, and he was aching here, he’d been hard since _forever_ , it felt like. Paul didn’t even need to be any good at this (although his face said he was, and he knew it, too); Callum was practically dripping for him, digging his nails into his palms just to keep his shit together.

It didn’t help having Martha pressed soft and warm against his side as she guided Paul forwards, off balance on his knees with his hands out of action. Fuck fuck _fuck_ , Paul just opened his mouth, let his eyes fall closed, and fucking _moaned_ as he swallowed Callum’s cock, like _he_ was the one getting off on this.

Callum almost came then and there, but yeah, of course Paul was good at this: he started off slow and easy, never quite enough pressure to tip him over the edge, until Callum was trembling and cursing and sweating. He reached out for Paul without thinking, needing something to hold on to, and his fingers met Martha’s buried in Paul’s hair.

He looked at both of them – Paul on his knees, eyes closed, lips stretched around his cock; and Martha flushed, watching intently – and that was it, that was all he could take. He tried to push Paul off, but Martha held him there.

“No, let him swallow, he _likes_ it,” she panted as if she was as close to the edge as Callum was.

And that was it, he was coming as hard as he ever had in his life down Paul’s throat. Paul just choked a little and took it, so fucking pretty Callum had to close his eyes in case he said something stupid as the orgasm washed over him.

 

He let go of Paul’s hair after a minute and felt him pull off, but he wasn’t quite ready to open his eyes again. All his skin seemed to be sensitised, aftershocks of pleasure still running down his nerves. He couldn’t look at Paul’s smug face, triumphant at how hard he made him come. Not just yet.

Then he heard Paul practically growl,

“Martha, _please_ …” and she had dropped to her knees to kiss him.

“God, you’re so hot like that, both of you, you don’t know what that _does_ to me,” she panted. “I need you to fuck me. Get up, come over here -”

It was their turn now, and Callum summoned the strength to help him up. Paul surprised him with a hot kiss that still tasted of him as Martha undid his pants and pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Let me go, I wanna touch you,” he pleaded as she pulled off her clothes and moved to sit astride him.

“No, I like you like this. You don’t know how _good_ you look, just doing what I want…”

Oh yeah, Callum could vouch for that. Paul groaned, pressing frantic kisses wherever he could reach. “Callum, you touch me,” she panted.

He hadn’t thought they were going there, but he let her grab his hand and guide it between her legs as she sank down on Paul’s cock with a gasp. She was soft and slick and so, so wet, and he could feel Paul slide all the way inside her, he was touching them _both_.

It was incredibly intimate: his fingers moving on her, brushing against Paul where their bodies joined, as she fucked Paul smooth and deep. But Callum didn’t let it distract him: he was just as focussed on Martha as Paul was, on stroking her just like she needed as she trembled between the two of them. They were _both_ doing this to her; the three of them were doing it _together_.

Martha was breathing fast and shallow, clutching at Paul’s shoulders, and it seemed like only a few seconds went by before she gripped Callum’s hand _hard_ and thrust down with a cry as she started to come. Paul held still under her, watching her face intently as wave after wave of it shook her. 

When she finally stopped moving she angled Paul’s head back to kiss him, breathless and sated. Paul groaned, urgent,

“Cal, get these off me, I need to -”

Callum grabbed the key and unlocked the handcuffs with fingers still slippery from Martha, and Paul wrapped his arms tight around her.

Maybe Callum should have moved away, or at least looked away after that, but he didn’t.

He collapsed on the bed and watched as Paul flipped them over and fucked Martha urgently, desperately, whispering, “God I love you, I love you,” into her hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved with him.

It didn’t last long – nothing that intense could last long. Paul gave a last hard thrust and went still with a defenceless, needy sound, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. Callum closed his eyes then: it seemed only fair to watch people fucking when they’d invited you to take part, but that moment right after you came, when you might say anything? That was different.

He made his ears not listen to the low rumble of Paul’s voice, Martha’s soft reply, and felt them move apart after a long moment. But he was taken by surprise when first Paul, then Martha leaned over him and kissed him. He lay there and let himself be kissed, and didn’t open his eyes.

He didn’t know what they expected him to do as Martha got up and Paul flopped down at his side, so he settled for doing nothing. If they wanted him out, they could damn well say so.

 

“You should come for dinner,” Paul said after a while. His voice sounded different lying down. Deeper, sort of lazy.

From across the trailer Martha said, “Yeah! That would be nice,” and then she was back, sitting on Callum’s other side. “We never have anyone over for dinner any more. I probably can’t remember how to cook grownup food.”

“You’re not selling this to him,” Paul objected.

Callum opened his eyes then, sat up to see Martha in a robe, Paul still stretched out naked next to him. It was a nice view.

His silence must have seemed doubtful because Martha added, “The kids are at my mother’s.”

“Oh,” he managed.

“But they’d like you!”

“They should go to your mother’s more often.” Paul’s knee rubbed deliberately against his leg.

“Um,” Callum said.

He had no idea what the rules were here, what they expected from him, how this was going to work when he showed up on set tomorrow. Paul might freak out – _he_ might freak out. They had months to go on this show – what if _Martha_ freaked out, him working with Paul every day, when Paul had given him head like he loved it? It was all fine now, in the afterglow, but what about when real life kicked back in? He liked these people, was the trouble. If you didn’t care, there was nothing to lose, but he wanted them to like him back.

Because he had done stuff before. Stuff he regretted, stuff he barely remembered, stuff that had repercussions, stuff that had none. With women, with guys – none of them married, that he knew, because who needs the hassle of cheating when there are millions of single people out there? And _definitely_ none of it with people married to each other, and inviting him round for fucking _dinner_.

He took a deep breath and heard himself say, “Hey, I’ll treat you to take out, then,” and Paul started giggling at his side.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Um. I'm not proud of myself, but neither am I precisely ashamed.


End file.
